


It's All Part of the Game

by Kasuchi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-12
Updated: 2010-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>A man's got to have a code.</i> McGee gets addicted to <i>The Wire</i>, much to Tony's chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Part of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> The Epic "McGee Watches _The Wire_ " Story. For Lauren - my enabler, my muse, my partner in crime. ♥

**1.**

McGee shifted in his seat, agitated. It was a slow day, no new case as far as anyone knew. For once, it seemed, no Marine or seaman or Naval officer had gotten himself (or herself) killed.

McGee glanced over at Tony. Then looked back at his computer. Then glanced at Tony for a little longer. Then back at his keyboard.

Tony.

Computer screen.

Tony.

Computer Screen.

"McCreepy, if you want to say something just say it." Tony flicked his wrist and the ball of paper sailed through the air into Ziva's recycling bin. Ziva shot him an impressed look out of the corner of her eye before returning to instant messaging friends in Tel Aviv.

McGee stood up and strode to Tony's desk. "Tony."

"Yes?" Tony paused his game and turned to McGee.

"You worked in Baltimore, right?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, for like two years. And then I was recruited for NCIS." Ziva's rapid typing slowed to a halt, and her attention was on the desk across from hers. "What's it to you?"

"What unit were you in?"

"Homicide." Tony paused. "Probie. Why are you probing? You've never cared about my career before."

"No reason. Just curiosity. I can't be curious about my coworker's past?" McGee strolled back to his desk and began to type rapidly.

"Curious, yes, but not after working together for _five years_. Out with it." Tony glanced sideways. "Or I'll sic Ziva on you."

McGee's rapid typing paused. "Fine. I started watching _The Wire_."

"The Wire?" Tony just looked confused.

"It's a crime drama that aired on HBO. Set in Baltimore. It's supposed to be really realistic."

"Okay. But you work in crime. And you write crime novels. Why are you watching a crime drama on your time off?"

McGee had the grace to turn pink. "It got really good reviews on Amazon," he insisted. "And I really like the writing." McGee smirked triumphantly at Tony. "You were McNulty."

"McNonsense, I can't follow your references when I don't know what you're talking about."

"Realized what life with you for the rest of us is like, DiNozzo?" Gibbs swooped in (as he was wont to do) and settled into his desk.

"No case, boss?"

"Slow news day. Deal with it."

"Boss, have you heard of a show called _The Wire_ , on HBO?" McGee deliberately ignored Tony's gesturing.

"Heard of it. Haven't watched it."

"See!" McGee pointed at Gibbs while crowing at Tony. "It's a well-known show. I'm not crazy for wanting to watch it."

"Never said you were. But cop shows never get it right."

"Oh really?" McGee crossed his arms and leaned back. "Let me guess. No computer in your office - you had to type all your reports on decades-old IBMs. Lab equipment was at least 25 years old. Drug trafficking was the root of most of your murder cases. Red tape everywhere. Drug kingpins paid off elected officials."

Tony glared at McGee. "Fine, so some of the details are right. Doesn't mean anything."

Ziva laughed. "You just do not want to admit that he has gotten you, Tony."

"Whatever." Tony rose and stretched. "I'm going to get coffee."

When Tony was out of earshot, McGee sat back up and muttered, "He's _so_ McNulty."

**2.**

"Hey, Tony? When you worked in Baltimore, did you ever have a woman as your partner?"

Tony blinked blankly over at McGee, chair tilted back as far as it could go. "No, but I worked with a few."

"I see." McGee nodded and resumed typing. Tony raised an eyebrow but went back to reading his file by the light of his desk lamp.

After a few minutes: "Hey, Tony?"

"Yes?" Tony didn't glance up from the page.

"Were any of them lesbians?"

Tony sat up and dropped the file on his desk. "McFreaky, what is this about?"

"Nothing, I'm just curious."

"Out with it."

McGee had the grace to look chagrined. "McNulty's working with this really awesome female character, Kima, and she happens to be a lesbian." McGee shrugged. "McNulty says that he should have known, since the best women-cops he's worked with have been lesbians."

Ziva shot them a look. "Is that a compliment?"

"A backhanded one," Tony admitted, before turning to McGee. "What the hell, McGee. How is that even relevant?"

"I was just curious!" McGee held up his hands in an "I surrender!" gesture.

Tony stood and paced in front of McGee's desk. "I remember one, and she was a damn good cop, but there were a few other ball busters that weren't gay." He tiled his head to the side, staring into space. "The assistant DA was another. Wouldn't take crap from anyone."

"Maybe you should follow her lead, DiNozzo." Gibbs pressed a coffee into Tony's hands. "You haven't eaten in nine hours."

"Thanks, boss." Tony gratefully accepted the drink and headed back to his desk, rubbing his eyes.

"Did Ducky's autopsy reveal anything?" Ziva rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to work the kinks out of stiff muscles.

"Not anything we didn't already know. Tissue samples are with Abby right now."

In the dark, they all returned to the glow of lamps and computer screens.

**3.**

McGee surveyed the office over the top of his computer.

"Probie, what are you doing?"

McGee swiveled his head toward Tony hard enough to cause whiplash. "Nothing," he replied quickly.

Too quickly. "You know I can smell a lie, and right now you reek." He strode to McGee's desk and glared, drawn to his full height.

McGee licked his lips. "Been working on that Gibbs impression again?"

"Don't try to distract me, it won't work. Why are you watching us over your computer?"

McGee tried to look away, but Ziva and Gibbs were engrossed (or seemingly engrossed) in their work.

"Eyes here, Probie." Tony grabbed McGee's face in a hand, squeezing just enough to give Tim fish lips.

"I was just noticing that we don't have a lot of diversity."

Tony let go. "That's it? Seriously?"

"Yeah." McGee rubbed his jaw. "I mean, haven't you noticed it?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't think you're being fair, McGee. I mean, I'm Italian," he pointed out, gesturing at himself. "Ziva's Jewish," he added gesturing at her. "You're Scots-Irish, and Gibbs is....whatever the hell he is." Tony's voice dropped to a stage whisper. "My money's on part Native American."

McGee grinned. Gibbs didn't look up.

Tony continued. "Ducky's fully Scottish, Palmer is part German, Vance is, well."

"What about Director Vance?" Abby interjected into the conversation.

Tony beamed. "And Abby here is at least part Italian."

"A sixteenth on my dad's side. Good call!" She grinned.

"But surely it's not as diverse as--"

Tony covered McGee's mouth with a hand. "If you say Baltimore, I will Gibbs-slap you."

"I might, too," Gibbs added, continuing to skim his report.

McGee nodded. Tony removed his hand. "But am I right?"

Tony buried his head in his hands.

"What are you talking about?" Abby shot them both a quizzical look.

"McGee has been watching a show about wires," Ziva supplied helpfully.

"It's not about wires, it's called _The Wire_ ," McGee corrected, glancing at Tony. "It's set in Baltimore."

"I've heard of that. HBO?"

"That's the one."

"Awesome. I've wanted to watch that for ages."

"Then you should come over and watch with me."

Abby smirked. "Okay, McGee." She leaned closer and added, "But this time, keep your hands to yourself."

McGee blinked impassively back at her. Abby pivoted on her heel and handed Gibbs a file folder. "The screenshots from the bank footage are in here, along with a tox screen on our victim."

"Thanks, Abby." Gibbs nodded at her. "DiNozzo, quit moping and read this."

"On it, boss," Tony chimed, taking the proffered folder and settling into his chair.

McGee swore he heard Tony grumble about "stupid, weirdly accurate TV shows" for a good twenty minutes.

**4.**

When Tony walked in, McGee and Abby surveyed him with identical expressions of awe.

"Do I event want to know?" He made a show of shrugging off his coat and logging into his computer.

"You--"

"McNulty," McGee corrected.

"Solved an entire crime in about half an hour saying nothing but profanity."

"With your partner."

Tony shot them a long-suffering look. "Okay, seriously, guys, this is getting a little ridiculous, don't you think?"

Abby and McGee shook their heads in tandem. "No," they chorused.

"McNulty and Bunk solve the entire crime on minimal evidence. Hell, they recreate the crime scene from photographs, intuition, and deductive reasoning." McGee's starstruck look didn't fade, and Abby takes a long sip from her Caf-Pow.

Turning away from them, Tony sifted through his email. "Maybe this will teach you to respect good, old-fashioned police work."

"Not likely, DiNozzo," Gibbs quipped, gently smacking Tony in the head with a loosely-folded newspaper. Breezing past Abby and McGee, he slid into his chair. "Abby, any reason you're upstairs today?"

"We're in awe of Tony."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Abby took another long drag of her drink. "See, McGee and I have been watching _The Wire_ \--"

"And this McNulty character is a lot like DiNozzo." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "I've heard."

"Right, so McNulty and Bunk, his partner, just solved a crime with nothing but photographs and a profanity-laced exchanged."

"Maybe Tony and Ziva should try that sometime."

Ziva blinked back at Gibbs innocently. "I am sure I could curse more fluently than Tony."

Tony ignored them. Or tried to, anyway.

"I don't know," McGee interjected, voice contemplative. "He was a frat boy."

"What does being in a brotherhood have to do with cursing?"

Tony buried his head in his hands. "I hate my life," he muttered.

"Agent DiNozzo, if you would like to be relieved of your duties, that can be arranged."

Tony straightened up and continued clicking through his email. "No, I'm good, Director."

Vance surveyed the room. "Miss Sciuto, is there something we can help you with up here?"

Abby shook her head. "Major Mass Spec is spinning, the DNA samples from six cases are in the centrifuge, and AFIS is scanning through a full series of prints. I'm kind of useless right now."

"When was the last time you slept?"

Abby considered the ceiling tiles for a long moment. "For more than three hours?"

Vance nodded.

"Three days, maybe?"

"Then, Miss Sciuto, I suggest you take a nap. Downstairs. Perhaps in Autopsy."

She pushed herself off of the edge of McGee's desk. "Yes, sir!" She saluted and strode away.

"Anything else you need, Director?" Gibbs half-smirked as Vance rotated in the center of the bullpen.

Vance paused, gaze lingering on Gibbs for a long moment. "As you were," he said, and continued to the next cluster of cubicles.

When the Director was out of earshot, Tony sighed in relief and relaxed his posture. "I haven't felt like that around someone since the major I worked with back in Peoria." Tony shook his head. "Most physically imposing man I ever met."

"Ever?" Gibbs flipped through the newspaper, comment carefully mild.

Tony looked stricken. "Uh, that is, except for you, boss." He beamed.

Ziva leaned forward, a mildly conspiratorial gleam in her eye. "So, you say these two detectives solve a murder very efficiently?"

McGee nodded, leaning forward as well. "It's like they're actually competent." He paused. "Well, some of them."

"Seriously, McDummy, I'm right here. I can hear every word."

They ignored him. Ziva grinned. "Do you think I could borrow these discs? From what Abby has told me of Kima Greggs, I think I would like her very much."

"I'm a little partial to Prez, myself, but Kima is pretty awesome." McGee grinned. "She hits like a man, you see."

Ziva beamed. "Then I must watch this show."

**5.**

"Tony?"

"McCrazy, if you're going to ask me a 'Would What McNulty Did Jive With What You Would Do' question, I will punch you in the face." Tony continued leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his neck, head tilted back and eyes closed. He was the picture of relaxation in the dark office.

McGee had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yes and no." McGee shifted nervously on the other side of Tony's desk. "How much do you like your job?"

"Which one?"

"Any of them. All of them."

Tony's eyes opened and he met McGee's squarely. "I love what I do." No hesitation, no falter, no consideration.

McGee grinned. "That's what I thought."

"That's nice, now _go away_ and let me catch some shuteye."

**6.**

"I did not know that police officers here use metaphors for homosexual intercourse to describe their interactions with each other."

Tony spat out his coffee. "Ziva! Seriously, a warning when I'm drinking hot beverages. Christ."

"What? I was simply saying that I did not know this."

"You're missing the point - I could have choked and died."

"Technically, you would have drowned."

He glared darkly at her. "Still missing the point. And thank you for clarifying just how much more pathetic that death would have been."

Ziva shrugged loosely. "Death in a blaze of glory is not all it is cracked up to be, you know."

"It always looked good in the movies."

"But, then they always died." She met his gaze, dark eyes large in the low light.

**7.**

"You would totally teach your kids to front and follow."

Tony threw a peanut M&M at a hastily retreating Abby.

**8.**

"Hey, To--"

"Just ask," Tony sighed, tossing the just-finished file back onto his desk.

McGee surveyed the empty office around them briefly. His gaze landed on Ziva's desk for a long moment, his expression turning inscrutable.

"McGee."

Tim blinked, startled, and shook his head, turning his attention back to his monitor. "Nothing, never mind."

**9.**

When Tony had the bad luck of having a pen explode all over his shirt, he reached into his desk drawer to pull out a new, cleanly folded one.

When he straightened, a chorus of ohs greeted him. He looked around, at the others looking at him. (Well, except Gibbs, but when did Gibbs ever care what they were doing?)

"Oh, for the cripes sakes," he muttered, and made his way to the men's room.

**10.**

They were all eating take-out in the midst of a case, stressed out from trying to find a serial rapist in the ranks of the navy, when McGee sprang the question.

"Tony."

"Yes, McInquisition?"

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

Tony glared back. "I've slept maybe four hours in the last two days. I'm allowed to be a little lacking in my game." He cleared his throat loudly. "Anyway. What?"

He paused, hesitating. "Can I steal your egg roll?"

"Wimp," Abby fake-coughed. Ziva shook her head. Palmer hid a grin. Gibbs remained both silent and impassive.

Ducky sighed. "What Timothy is _trying_ to ask you, Antony, is this: What was your worst case?"

Tony blinked at Ducky. "Here, or as a cop?"

"Both. Either," McGee replied, not quite meeting Tony's eyes.

Tony dropped his gaze, poking at his carton of lo mein with his chopsticks. "The worst case, huh?" He laughed humorlessly, glancing up at the ceiling. "I suppose I can't cheat and say that any loss of human life is bad?"

Ducky shook his head. "As deplorable as it is, we are all, for better or for worse, more than a little unfazed by death."

Nodding, Tony leaned back in the chair. The room quieted around him, everyone curious to hear what he would have to say. (Well, except Gibbs, who kept eating and, occasionally, flipping the pages of a file.) No one expected him to declare this his worst; they were all too jaded for that.

"There was a string of murders in Philadelphia. Kids," he added, tone oddly detached. "Suffocated and then left in fields in poses, arms folded across their chests." He shifted in the chair, making it squeak. "We called in the FBI, and the two detectives that were primaries on the case - me and my partner, Jake Hanthorne - worked pretty closely with them. Ritual killings, they said. Suffocation made it less personal, less about power. It didn't really matter; the press was having a field day and the pressure was on. It was my first case like that," he noted, almost as an aside. The others remained silent.

"The last victim was an 8-year-old girl with blond, hippie hair." He licked his lips, poking at the noodles absently. "I remember thinking, when I saw the scene, how much like a doll she looked, she was so pale." He shook his head. "We - the police, the FBI - caught them. It was a couple of teenagers, offering sacrifices to their fringe deity. I'm pretty sure I threw up when I heard them talking about the murders in the interview room." He smiled, but it definitely didn't reach his eyes. "I really don't remember. I'd slept maybe seven hours in as many days."

He poked at his Chinese food. "I left Philly not too long after, went to Baltimore. Then I came here." He shrugged. "So yeah, worst case ever."

They were all silent for a long moment. Then, Abby slapped McGee upside the head. "Way to kill the mood, McGee."

"Ow! Jeez, I was gonna ask what his best moment as a cop was next." He pouted and rubbed the back of his head.

The tension in the air broke as the others laughed and resumed eating.

"Greatest moment, huh?" He chewed on a water chestnut piece and contemplated the question. "That's easy. The case that got me this job." He beamed, but the smile fell when everyone else looked confused. "What?"

Ducky and Abby shared a look. The good doctor flashed him a smile. "Antony, I would guess the others don't know how you got this job."

"Wait, seriously?"

McGee and Ziva shook their heads. "You have never mentioned it," Ziva said, clearly curious. "I considered asking, but I assumed that if it had been a good story, you would have shared it already."

"I always thought you'd simply applied and been accepted."

"What--guys, I was _personally recruited_ by Gibbs. Seriously, you think he'd just have let me be assigned to his team?" He shot a look at Gibbs. "Back me up here, boss."

"He's right," Gibbs offered quietly, pausing to pick up his take-out carton of fried rice. "I chose him specifically."

"Really?" Ziva's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Really," Tony affirmed. "I was working in homicide at Baltimore when I met Gibbs. It turned out a floater we'd pulled from the water that I'd been assigned was a Marine. Apparently when I'd ran his prints, I'd called attention to myself." He smirked. "So Gibbs here claimed jurisdiction. I didn't feel like arguing with a Fed, so I offered to collab on the project." He raised a hand to stop Ziva from saying something. "I needed the clear for my stats," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, long story short, turned out our drowned Marine was the link we needed in a major crimes case we'd had going on for a while. A drinking buddy of mine had filled me in on the case day by day after work." Grinning, he looked over at Gibbs. "It pretty much made my career as a cop, and it got me this job."

"He's leaving out the parts where he pulled a fellow officer out of the line of fire, pulled out a needle from a haystack, and realized just how all of the pieces fell together," Gibbs added, almost smiling.

"Line of fire?" Tim echoed, exchanging glances with Ziva.

Tony glared at Gibbs. "You weren't supposed to tell them that."

Gibbs shrugged. "Second B is for bastard," he retorted, and had a large forkful of his fried rice.

**11.**

"I need the name of a police bar in Baltimore," McGee said suddenly.

"Cavanaugh's," Tony replied immediately, tossing his crossword onto his desk. "Trying to pick up lady cops, McGee? The trick is to not make jokes about roleplaying. Or handcuffs."

"Ha ha, no. It's for the next Deep Six novel."

Tony leaped up, one eyebrow raised. "So you need a bar. In Baltimore."

Tim frowned. "Yes?" he replied slowly, unsure of where Tony was headed.

Tony beamed. "None of us go to bars in Baltimore, McAuthor. You're writing a wholly original story." He clapped McGee on the shoulder. "Well done. I look forward to it."

"Oh...kay..."

Tony returned to his desk and resumed his crossword. Meanwhile, Tim sighed and decided to not mention that the bar was for a flashback scene to Tommy's past.

**12.**

A drunk Bunk tells McNulty, "You're not good for people, man," who stands in the doorway for a long moment as the shot fades to black.

McGee (and Abby, between them, and Ziva, too) could _feel_ Tony bristle.

"Tony?" Ziva ventures.

"I'm not like that," he muttered, jaw clenched.

Ziva, Abby, and McGee looked at each other, gesturing with their expressions. Time drew the short straw, clearly, because he spoke next. "Not like what?"

Tony gestured at the screen. "That's not who I am. He doesn't even quote movies, for crying out loud." He harrumphed. "I bet his Nicholson impression is terrible," he muttered.

"Tony, none of us _said_ you were any of these characters."

"Magoo did. Said so when he first starting watching the show."

"You remember that?" McGee looked surprised.

Abby punched him in the arm. "Focusing on the wrong thing, McGee."

"Ow!"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Tony, despite what McGee may have said, we do not think you are an analogue of anyone."

"You _could_ have been McNulty," Abby interjected.

"But you are not," Ziva finished, punctuating her statement with a sharp nod. "You are a much better man, Tony."

"And you're _good_ for people," McGee insisted. "Without you, I'd still be wondering what some of the acronyms we use stand for."

"You're a good leader, Tony," Abby added, rubbing a hand across his shoulders.

"Besides, it is fiction. McNulty does not exist. _You_ do." Ziva poked him in the arm. "Stop being chemo."

"It's emo," Tony corrected automatically and sighed. "Why do I even know that?"

"Because you're perpetually nursing a VH1 addiction?"

McGee shook his head. "No, Abs, that's the nuns."

"Oh, right." She shrugged. "You've contemplated eyeliner in your past?" She grinned wickedly. "You know, to make your eyes pop."

McGee and Ziva snickered.

Tony mock-glared. "I hate all of you." But he was grinning.

**Author's Note:**

>   1. For Lauren, with lots of love. Because I love you. I'm on an NCIS kick, so let's see how long it lasts.
>   2. I've been writing this on and off for about a year now. It started with a conversation about how similar McNulty and Tony are. The similarities are not really apparent. Lauren describes McNulty as "Tony, if he'd stayed in Baltimore" which is a description I like and so am thieving.
>   3. I apologize for the roughness. I'm trying to get my NCIS fics done, and that means re-immersing myself in this show, which I haven't done in a while. Maybe I need Tim and Tony to pretend to be gay again, idk. Anyway, if you spot any errors, feel free to point them out to me.
> 



End file.
